Bob Dylan and Tina Fey are stuck in Shuttle Detour to an Unknown Planet and forced to have a deep conversation.

Here's how it might go:

Bob Dylan: This here shuttle, it's just a bigger version of that motorcycle crash, ain't it? A new way of gettin' lost, searchin' for the ghost of where you thought you were headed.

Tina Fey: (Scoffs) Well, at least the legroom is better than the writers' room on "30 Rock." Though, arguably, both are equally likely to end in existential dread.

Bob Dylan: Dread's just another word for not knowin' the words to the next verse, darlin'. You gotta let the wind carry ya, even if it blows you right into a nebula.

Tina Fey: See, that's the thing, Bob. I *need* a plan. A spreadsheet. Someone to tell me what the hell a nebula even *is*.

Bob Dylan: Plans are for folks scared of the melody. The universe, she ain't got no script, just a whole lotta improvisin'.

Tina Fey: (Dryly) Right. And I'm sure that improvising alien species we're about to meet will totally appreciate my nuanced Liz Lemon impression.

Bob Dylan: Maybe they'll dig it. Maybe they'll see the truth behind the funny, the ache in the joke. Folks everywhere got an ache, ya know.

Tina Fey: True. Everyone's just trying to avoid that ache, whether it's through space travel or aggressively mediocre Pinot Grigio.

Bob Dylan: The trick is to dance with the ache, to let it guide your feet. That's where the real song comes from.

Tina Fey: Okay, Bob. But if we get eaten by a space slug, I'm blaming your improvisational life philosophy and writing that into my next book.